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Now, looking at my reflection in the rearview mirror, a part of me wished he had done a little more than that. My mother had tried to stop me. Even my brother had tried to talk some sense into me. But I wouldn’t budge, mainly because I knew that as long as dad wasn’t going to get involved, I was going to be fine.
I regretted that more than ever now.
They’ll take you back, you know. Pack up your things, get in your car, and drive home. It isn’t that far, and they’ll take you back.
That little voice in my head had a habit of repeating that particular mantra over and over again, especially on days like this. When I was too stressed out to think clearly, or to come up with a better solution to my problems other than running away.
You don’t need better solutions. There’s just one!
I sighed, climbed out of my car and trudged to the front door. I
hesitated, looked back at my car, and closed my eyes for a few seconds. My body was urging me back to the Honda, ask if silently pushing me to run away now, quickly, before he got back. Forget the clothes, the jewelry, the few hundred dollars stashed away in the cookie jar over the sink cabinets. Go, now, and never look back.
I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting back from ten. I pushed the key into the hole, unlocked the door and stepped into the house.
There was a general lack of warmth to the house. I could never put my finger on it, but ever since we had bought it, mostly out of my own savings, there was constant chill that ran through the whole place. My mother once said that a home’s warmth comes from the happiness within its walls. If that were true, then the house really did reflect the mood of its current inhabitants.
I quickly scanned the living room and hall, making sure that I truly was alone, and Dennis was not lying in some drunken stupor on the couch, finding his way home only because someone had been smart enough to take the keys away from him before he had started binge drinking. But the house was quiet. And cold. And annoyingly inhospitable, a feeling I had gotten used to over the years but was still strong enough to never let me forget.
I kicked off my heels and made my way upstairs, tossing my purse on the chair by the bedroom door. I felt the tension in my neck slowly ease, the knowledge that at least tonight I’d be Dennis-free making my nerves ease. I felt the muscles in my body relax, and I slowly began to undress. The chill against my skin felt good. I wiggled my toes against the cold hardwood floor and eyed the bed wearily.
Now what are we planning for tonight, Andrea?
I allowed myself a small smile, then quickly raced into the bathroom to wash up. Within minutes I was under the covers in my panties and top, staring at the ceiling and enjoying the fact that I had the bed to myself.
The thought of packing my things and racing home played at the forefront of my mind. It was teasing me gently, a little devil of a voice urging me to get up, quickly, quietly, and hurry. No one would know. No one would be able to stop me. Just pack and leave.
What then?
Anything, really. My parents had died two years ago, first my mother to cancer, and then my father three months later to a heart attack. Some say he had died of a broken heart, unable to live without his wife. Bobby had told me that our father had never been the same again once mom was gone. I believed him. The two of them had been the poster children for what a happily married couple should look like.
Unlike my marriage to Dennis. Which was probably why they had reacted the way they did to me telling them that I was going to marry him. My parents must have seen the real Dennis years before I had. If only they had pushed a little harder. Been a little firmer in their decision to stop me from making the biggest mistake of my life.
Although I knew their insistence would have only made me want Dennis more. I could be stubborn like that sometimes.
Bobby would welcome me back. I mean, what were brothers for if not support during a time of crisis? I knew Bobby had calmed down. During my parents’ funeral, he had seen the signs, had told me to come home, and I had just shrugged it off and promised that everything was fine. Everything definitely was not fine.
Dammit, even the people at work had noticed.
I wonder if Kyle Hannigan noticed.
I closed my eyes, picturing Kyle with all his manliness in my mind. I saw him clearly, tall and blonde, flashing me that smile of his while his eyes slowly took me in. I could get lost in those eyes. I could stare into them for hours, days even.
I felt a soft tingle between my thighs and let out a long sigh as my body seemed to drown into the mattress. I had imagined myself with Kyle Hannigan countless times; more times than I could remember. And I was willing to bet that every woman in our office had at one point or another. Sometimes I even pictured him when I was with Dennis, closing my eyes and replacing my husband with the image of a better man, a gentler man, one who would please me as much as I pleasured him. I had only ever been with Dennis, and I had never believed that I could actually cheat on him, despite the countless times he cheated on me. But it didn’t hurt to imagine. On the contrary, it was the one thing that kept me going.
I closed my eyes, and a picture of Kyle immediately materialized before me. Standing at the end of the bed, smiling at me, a look of lust and love mixed on his features. The way his eyes traced the curves of my body, every inch of me hungrily taken in, only turned me on even more. That tingle between my thighs grew in intensity, spreading to the rest of me in heat waves. My breathing deepened, and I slowly opened my legs, giving him unhindered access to the one place I needed him the most.
In my mind, Kyle slowly undressed. I bit my lip as his naked body stood before me, every inch of him chiseled to perfection, the lines of his muscles gently interweaving into an entanglement of yumminess. I opened my legs wider, pulling my knees up just enough for him to slide in between my thighs. He took the invitation, crawling onto the bed and slowly lowering himself until all I could see was that gorgeous head of blonde hair.
I imagined Kyle to be gentle. To take his time. To keep going forever until he had me begging for more. In my mind, his tongue was like a silken piece of heaven, and when he’d pull my panties to a side and thrust his tongue between my wet lips I’d moan in bliss. He never failed to deliver.
Tonight, his tongue drew portraits across my pussy. Moving up and down, circling my clit and flicking at it, driving me insane. It found its way inside me, gently circling until I began to buck my hips against his face, slowly yet urgently. Wanting more. So much more. My fingers entangled in his hair, pressing his face into me, my clit rubbing against his nose, his tongue sending shivers up and down my spine. I didn’t want it to stop. I needed this to keep going for as long as it could.
And just as I came close to coming, he grabbed my ass with both hands, lifted my hips up higher and ravaged me with such intensity that my orgasm hit like a hurricane. Legs shaking, moans bordering on screams of pleasure, fingers pulling at his hair as my body seemed to stiffen and relax at the same time.
“That was beautiful,” I whimpered to the empty room.
But Kyle was there. In my mind, he was always there. I could see him looking up at me with a wide smile on his face, slowly crawling up my body until his eyes were only inches from mine, where our lips gently grazed each other’s, a forbidden kiss I wished could be real. I reached down between us, grabbed his cock gently in my hand and stroked it. Slowly. Passionately. Knowing that having him inside me would be more pleasurable than anything I could ever imagine.
